


Taking over the world, one step at a time

by WonderVita



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Eventual Hicsqueak, F/F, Hecate and the Ordinary world, Hecate has problems with doors, Hecate is a soft bean she needs to be protected, Hecate is a useless lesbian, Rating will change, adding tags as I go, other relationships but tagging would spoil it, tw!anxiety, tw!mentions of blood, tw!panic attacks, tw!periods, we ignore s3 in this household
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-09-07 00:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20300611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderVita/pseuds/WonderVita
Summary: Hecate gave up her magic to reignite the Founding Stone. Now she has to make a life for herself in the Ordinary world.





	1. Office for integration of magicless witches and wizards

**Author's Note:**

> This has been on my mind for a long time so here you go. I had a carefully crafted plan where this fic contained 12 chapters but then the chapters took a life of their own and plan went outta window...not sure how long exactly this will be but probably very long. If anyone reads it, that is
> 
> This WILL be Hicsqueak but I'm not gonna lie, you have to be patient. This story focuses on Hecate.
> 
> Thanks to my beta LuciaGuilt (who else, we don't work separately, we're one mastermind)

_There’s no_ _ reason to linger._

There’s no reason to linger. That’s what she’s said to Ada, right?  
Right.  
So no lingering.  
Hecate lifts her suitcase. It’s light and fairly small, the same one she came to Cackle’s with all these years ago. Even the contents are more or less the same.  
She can’t help but look around the room. It looks just as it did yesterday or the day before and it will surely look the same tomorrow. It’s funny how nothing has really changed. The castle is still standing and the sun is still shining and the world keeps on turning. Hecate finds it unsettling, dread creeping slowly into her bones. She can’t think about it now. Not yet.

She clicks her tongue at Morgana, the black cat following her out of the room and down the hall. Hecate’s footsteps are loud on the stone floor, did they always resonate this much? The halls are empty, she knew they would be. She is a pragmatic person, not one for sentimental scenes. She wished to keep this quiet and Ada complied.

Outside the castle she stops, mentally checks her belongings, nothing seems to be forgotten. She then looks at the card she’s been given.

_Office for integration of magicless witches and wizards _

She sighs and sets down the road, Morgana trotting behind her.

Hecate forbids herself to look back. The urge is strong but she resists. She reasons with herself, thinking it’s not necessary to look for she knows exactly what she’d see.

Cackle’s. The lines of the castle blurring in the dusk, warm yellow light coming to life in some of the windows. She wonders, if she looked back, would she see Ada, or miss Bat, or even miss Drill, maybe some of the girls standing at the windows? Would she be able to make out their figures, their faces? But she knows they’re not there. They’re not. The voice inside her head tells her to take one more look. One last time. But ignoring that voice is one of Hecate’s master skills, maybe even her only skill right now. So she doesn’t look back.

Her high heels prove to be a problem as she climbs down the hill. Hecate’s first thought is, of course, to change her boots into something more suitable. She’s almost begun to reach for the magic inside her when she remembers there’s nothing to be reached. Nothing at all.

In her tight dress and on heels, the journey downhill is anything but dignified. Arms flailing around, trying to keep her balance, boots slipping on the gravel, Hecate grips the handle of her suitcase firmly, knuckles white, and continues on. 

At the bottom of the hill, finally, she leans down to sweep Morgana into her arms. The cat rests easily against her, as if sensing this is not the best time to play with her mistress.

And like that, Hecate crosses the road and walks into the village. It’s a small witching village, she’s been here before but that was years ago. Still, she is sure there must be an inn.  
And sure enough, she takes a few turns and there it is.

She awkwardly pushes the door open with her elbow and stumbles inside. It’s almost empty except for a few patrons scattered at the tables. Hecate feels their eyes on her, thinks they must know why she’s here.  
She hands the card with the name of the office that should take care of her from now on to the lady at the counter. It’s all crumpled and damp from being clutched firmly in her sweaty palm. The woman frowns.

“Can you pay?”

Her voice is rough and she sounds irritated.

Hecate can pay, though she wasn’t aware this was a paid service. But she keeps that to herself. She can pay so she nods. However the sum baffles her and her eyebrows fly up. She wants to call the woman out on this ridiculous pricing but finds she can only weakly stammer through a sentence that doesn’t make much sense. That only makes her angrier, why can’t she speak up? She tries to summon her confidence but falls flat. This whole miss Hardbroom persona, this whole pretence relied heavily on her magical abilities. Now with her magic gone, she’s again her timid little self.  
But the innkeeper seems to understand her outrage.

“You pay for a room, dinner and breakfast. They’ll pick you up tomorrow morning the soonest; no one would bother this late.”

Hecate can’t really argue with that so she pays and is chaperoned up a flight of creaky wooden stairs by a young boy. When he shows her to her room she notices he’s studying her curiously. Of course, she ought to have expected that. People have their magic stripped of off them as a punishment. And even if they lose it in a duel it’s somehow also seen as a punishment. When you lose your magic it’s always your fault. This boy, she thinks, is probably wondering what kind of criminal she is. What has she done that is so horrible they took her magic away? Or maybe he wonders if she used to be a fighter in the arenas. No, probably not the last one. With her strict appearance she surely looks nothing like a professional dueller, even though in her time she was precisely that.  
He looks at her with a mix of awe and fear children often reserve for antagonists. When their eyes meet he averts his gaze quickly and leaves her alone.

Later her dinner is sent up but she’s not hungry. She’s just tired. She’s tired but somehow sleep doesn’t seem to be an option. She sits at the desk for some time, she doesn’t know for how long but by the time she comes to herself she can’t see a thing. Switching on the small lamp on the bedside table, she resorts to pacing around the room. Morgana jumps down from the bed and joins her. In the small space they keep tumbling into each other until Hecate grabs the feline and clutches her to her chest. Morgana purrs.

Hecate tries to lie down but it’s no use. She’s wide awake. She stares at the ceiling until the morning comes.

She tries to eat her breakfast then but can’t manage more than a few bites. The innkeeper insists she should eat at least a half of her plate since she didn’t eat her dinner last night but she’s not able to. Even the thought makes her sick.

Well, it’s other thoughts that make her sick. Other thoughts that tighten her throat and make her stomach ache with nerves. She doesn’t really know what will come, has no idea what to expect. But she knows she has no choice but to go through with it. It terrifies her. Only now she realizes she has never, not even for a second wondered what happens to those who lose their magic. It’s a big gaping hole in her extensive knowledge and she has nothing, not even bits or pieces, to fill it. What will happen to her now?

A man appears, dressed like an ordinary. He talks but she’s not able to follow. She hears him distantly but cannot make sense of the words. She doesn’t know if he expects an answer from her. Well, if he does he’s not in luck.

Hecate is sure he can sense her fear. He can surely see her shaking. Her legs are shaking when she stands; her hands are shaking when she picks up her suitcase and her familiar. Is Morgana still a familiar when Hecate is no longer a witch? Or is she just a cat? 

She takes small shaky breaths and she’s sick. So very sick. The transference, so familiar, so safe, feels like an embrace.

* * *

“Miss...Hardbroom, is it?”

A middle aged, bespectacled witch sits at a desk in a small office. Hecate can’t help the relief that floods her when she looks the woman over and finds her positively non-threatening. The office is dull. Nothing like she imagined.

“Yes. Well met.”

“Well met. Please, sit down.”

The witch doesn’t look up from her work and just motions towards a chair across from her. After a while she shoves a pile of papers right under Hecate’s nose.

“If you could fill out these forms for me, please. We need your information to take care of all necessary documents.”

“Of course.”

Hecate takes a pen and focuses on the forms. So far this procedure doesn’t seem that hard. Name, date of birth, ordinary name...wait, what? What on Earth is an ‘ordinary name’?

“Ehm, excuse me, what-what do you mean by ‘ordinary name’?”

Finally the witch looks up.

“Oh, no one told you? The names we use in the magical community can be rather extraordinary for the non-magical folk. Suspiciously so, if you understand me. For that reason we advise our clients to pick an ordinary name to use.”

“And if I want to keep my name?”

A sigh. Hecate feels like a student who’s being difficult.

“You can keep your first name, Hecate, but you have to pick a new last name. Here, take a look at this.”

She hands her a thick folder.

“It’s our list of common surnames in the ordinary world. We recommend picking something similar to your original name, keeping your initials, or picking something that has some meaning for you. It’s easier to remember that way.”

Hecate thumbs through the folder to the letter H.

“How about I explain the procedure to you before you pick?”

“Huh? Yes, yes. I’d appreciate that.”

Hecate stares at the list of names while the woman speaks.

“You’ll stay with us for two weeks. During this time you’ll learn the basics of living in the ordinary world and while you do that, our agents will do their best to find you a place to live. However we cannot promise we will have a flat for you before you leave, you may need to stay with a friend or a relative for some time.”

Hecate can’t help the bitter smirk that tugs on her lips. A friend or a relative, where would she get one of those? She should write to Pippa. Not for this, she refused to lay the burden of taking care of her on Pippa. Because Pippa would do it without a doubt and Hecate can’t do that to her. She should write to Pippa to let her know she hasn’t abandoned her again. But she has, hasn’t she?

“After you leave us you’ll have lessons here, three days a week. Those lessons will give you deeper understanding of the ordinary world. Once a week you will have a therapy session.”

Hecate’s head snaps up.

“Therapy sessions?”

“Losing one’s magic is a traumatic experience, we want to make the transfer from magical to non-magical world as smooth as possible for you and we need to make sure that trauma is handled properly and in a healthy way. It’s not an option, rather a requirement.”

Hecate doesn’t argue. What would be the use in that?

She’s gotten past the H names without picking one. Without even really seeing one. She skimmed them absentmindedly and hasn’t thought about them at all. That wouldn’t do, she knows. She has to pick. HH. Her initials. No. HB. That’s who she was, who she still is, for now. It’s funny, she hated that stupid nickname and now, now it’s what she wants to take with her. A bit of her old self, her old life to hold on to in that scary new world. She flips back to the B section. 

“In the beginning we will take care of all necessary paperwork and obtain all the documents you need. If you wish to handle your finances yourself it’s possible but with your permission we can do that for you. We have connections in one ordinary bank that help us set up accounts for our clients. Now I have to ask you, do you have sufficient funds to sustain you and pay rent before you’re ready to find a job?”

Money has never been an issue for Hecate. Her very existence came with certain riches, with money to keep her quiet. Her family paid considerable amount to her and other people to keep Hecate’s parentage a secret. She never wished to share that secret with anyone. In fact she couldn’t care less. But she’d never tell that to her family, no, she wanted them to keep paying. It’s the only thing they’ve ever done for her. Now though, now they probably won’t pay anymore. She has her own money, too. What she’d earned at Cackle’s alone would be enough to keep her afloat for some time, given the fact she rarely ever bought anything.

“I have enough. And I wish you handled it for me, please.”

Hecate gets another paper to sign and when she’s done she passes the whole stack of forms to the other woman.

“That would be all-no, one more thing actually. After you’ll go on to live on your own, you will get a mentor, someone to help you navigate through everyday life. We can assign you one but its better if it’s a friend or someone you trust. Do you know anyone in the ordinary world?”

Hecate doesn’t know how she comes up with the answer. In retrospect she’d feel as if the impulse came somewhere from outside her body, because it surely didn’t come from her brain. The thought didn’t even cross her mind and if it did she would never ever voice it.

She doesn’t know how but out of nowhere she hears herself say:

“Julie Hubble. I know Julie Hubble.”


	2. Hecate and the Horrendous Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wrote itself with total disregard to whatever plan I might have had for this story.  
I am working on this but right now I'm in the middle of moving so I'm not sure I'll be able to update as often as I'd like. Anyways enjoy.  
Thanks again to LuciaGuilt who's the beta of this story. I feel like the first part is a bit stiff but they said it works so if not, go yell at them :D

Those two weeks are, no doubt, the longest in Hecate’s life. Days pass in a pace so sluggish she thinks someone may have charmed time to move slower. Or even stand still.  
In her lectures she learns about lease and phones and public transport. Sometimes it’s interesting and sometimes it’s dull.  
She gets her documents- an ID, a card of insurance, a birth certificate. The instructor, young, arrogant wizard Hecate immediately loathes, calls them- her and two other unfortunate souls- by their ordinary names. Soon Hecate is so alert to it she jumps at every slightly similar word.  
She gets her school diplomas and other things that complete her ordinary identity. The instructor would randomly ask about their lives and they have to be ready to blurt out even the smallest of details in their backstory. Hecate sits down every evening and studies; she’s just as profound as she was as a schoolgirl. Soon she can recite every piece of information, list the names of all the schools she supposedly attended. It fills her with pride she thinks is thoroughly misplaced. She blames her competitiveness, her studious nature.  
Not everything goes so well, of course. Problems occur in an unexpected place. Hecate, who can quote paragraphs of the Code on demand at any given time, has a really hard time with ordinary laws and rules. There’s The Law, some unwritten rules and some written rules and social rules and a whole bunch of other rules. It makes her head spin, witches and wizards have the Code and that’s it. What’s in the Code is law and what isn’t just isn’t. There’s nothing like an _unwritten_ rule, either it's written or it’s not a rule. Her struggle frustrates her so intensively it results in an inevitable scene. In one lecture she’s asked why something (she can’t even remember what) is supposed to be done _this_ way and not _that_ way. Not only she doesn’t know the answer but her confused attempts at solving the problem show that she has no understanding of the matter at hand. Hecate is ashamed. She has always been top of the class and took the little confidence she had exactly from that achievement. But now she doesn’t know the answer, even though she studied the topic. She can’t make any sense of it all and feels hopelessly stupid. That’s why, when the teacher quietly bristles something about already having covered that question twice, she snaps. She yells at him about the absurdity of all these rules and she’s sure she also calls him something rather unflattering. The young man, his ego hurt, yells back at her along the lines that now when she went and lost her magic she is a part of the ordinary world whether she likes it or not.  
And that _hurts_. Hurts so bad she thinks her ribs may be breaking. Tears sting in her eyes and she does what she always does when upset, she transfers away. Except she doesn’t. She lifts her hand, curls her fingers and nothing happens. Of course nothing happens. She’s so angry and so embarrassed and everyone’s looking at her and she _knows_ _they know_. So she does the next best thing-she runs. When she slams her bedroom door shut, she finally cries.  
She meets her therapist that very day. When a jovial redhead enters her bedroom after a swift knock she’s still curled up in a dark corner of the room, red-eyed and weepy. Not the best first impression. Her immediate instinct is to turn away and shut off but the woman crouches next to her and talks. She talks and Hecate realizes she likes her. . Because she is the first person here who understands, who at least acknowledges the way she feels- alone, overwhelmed, adrift. The woman radiates calm authority that makes Hecate want to do as she’s told. She has the need to obey and take what semblance of affection she can get in return. So she lets herself be comforted and after some persuasion even agrees to return to class. That earns her praise; the red haired woman tells her she’s brave. And for a tiny fraction of time Hecate does feel brave.  
  


* * *

Hecate stares into her suitcase. It looks even emptier than when she left Cackle’s, if that is at all possible. She has few pieces of underwear that are her own, thankfully. The rest of her clothing has been deemed ‘unfit’ for the ordinary world and taken away. She’s been given some ordinary clothes; one ensemble lays in a sad heap in the suitcase, next to her documents, the other one she’s wearing. Then she has her small box of ‘treasures’- mainly letters from Pippa and notes they passed to each other in class, a couple postcards and photographs, a hair ribbon. She has her toothbrush and her old pearl hairbrush. Her pocket watch, folded neatly on top of her nightgown. So this is her life, all packed. Her books she’s left at Cackle’s. Her books about potion making, about herbs and magical creatures...all the books about the Craft she’s had and a few she’s written. Well, it’s not like she has any use for them now. She slams the suitcase shut and decides to go looking for Morgana. She only has ten minutes left to coax her cat into the carrier she was told to carry her in. Then she has to go to one of the many offices in the building for a last meeting, before she’s released into the world.   
In the end she’s about fifteen minutes late and she appears with Morgana on her arm and trying to hold her suitcase and the carrier in one hand. She stumbles into the office tripping over her own feet. She thought walking in flat shoes after spending years in heels would be easier. Instead she feels she’s just waddling around like some clumsy baby duck. At least the trainers are black but that’s really their only advantage. Her boots weren’t against any ordinary dress code or whatnot but after her trip from Cackle’s to the village she decided it’d be better to just get a new pair. They couldn’t be saved.  
After her balance is safely restored, she takes in her surroundings. The office is the same one she went to when she arrived two weeks ago, even the witch behind the desk is the same. And then there’s Julie Hubble.  
"Well m- I mean, Good morning, miss Hubble." Hecate awkwardly raises the hand that has all her baggage toward her face and then lets it fall helplessly as she realizes her mistake. Only her hands being full stops her from pulling on the sleeves of her sweatshirt. She has adopted this habit at some point during the last two weeks.

Julie Hubble wishes her good morning with a smile (pity, it’s all pity, Hecate tells herself) but before neither of them has the chance to say anything else, the office witch jumps in.

"You cannot travel with your cat like that; I thought you’ve studied public transport."

Hecate can feel the heat rising in her face and desperately tries to will it away.

"Yes, I know. I have tried to put her in but she wouldn’t go."

The office witch opens her mouth to speak but Julie Hubble interrupts her.

"We have this problem with Tabby all the time, stubborn little beasts aren’t they? But no matter, I’m here by car anyway."

Hecate would never call her Morgana a ‘beast’. No, her familiar, her pet or whatever was well trained and well behaved. Usually she was no trouble at all; she must’ve sensed Hecate’s own nervosity.

* * *

She’s seen cars before, of course, but she’s never sat in one. She knows about safety belts, they covered it in class, and is relieved when she effortlessly finds it in Julie’s car. Using it however is trickier than she imagined, the theory is well in place but inexperienced fingers fumble and it doesn’t help that she’s still trembling slightly from nerves. If she really thinks about it the tremble hasn’t left her since the day she reignited the Stone. It takes her a while to fasten it. Julie doesn’t offer to help; instead she waits patiently, silently, for Hecate to sort herself out. She’s glad for it. When the belt finally clicks into place Hecate is a little bit proud of herself, but mostly she’s relieved. Julie starts the car and Hecate jumps at the sudden noise. . She feels the car roar and move underneath her. It rumbles like an angry beast. Unlike a broom, it seems unpredictable. A broomstick is easy to handle and guide, this seems just...huge. Although she knows Julie has certain control over the machine it doesn’t make her feel any safer. Another thing that’s very different from flying on a broom is that the car is on the ground. Among other cars and people and buildings that are so close she thinks that any second they must inevitably hit something or someone. The car keeps squeezing itself into places it doesn’t seem to fit into and Hecate cannot comprehend how that is possible without the aid of magic. The world keeps rushing by in a blur. Hecate would look but she is preoccupied trying to breathe evenly.  
Her body has always been sensitive to stress. One would think that such a nervous wreck as Hecate would be used to it but no. Every time she found herself in a particularly stressful situation, her body reacted. Zits would cover her skin; she’d get nervous headaches, occasional migraines, bowel problems, trouble sleeping, irregular periods not to mention stress vomiting. During the last two weeks her face began to break out and her stomach protested against any food she forced herself to eat.

The unfamiliar movements of the car are beginning to make her sick. Hecate grips Morgana in her lap a bit too tight which earns a yelp from the cat and an attempt to escape. Hecate has to fight her a little, to keep her still.  
Julie glances their way.  
"Is everything okay?"  
  
"Fine." Hecate mutters almost silently. Her stomach bubbles and makes other distressed noises, which, again, alerts Julie.

"Are you sure you’re alright?"

"I’m fine." Grumbles Hecate, embarrassed about nearly everything at this point.

"Love, you look very far from fine."

Hecate winces at the endearment. It’s not that she minds it that much, she’s only used to it in completely different context. Well, not really used to it at all, actually.  
"Can you focus on driving this monstrosity please?"

This time it's Hecate’s nearly panicked tone that catches Julie’s attention.

"Wait, you’ve never ridden in a car, have you? I’ve just realized. This must be horrible for you!"

"I’m fine."

"Except you’re going to be sick." Julie assesses with her trained eye of a nurse and takes a turn to the first supermarket she sees. With the car safely parked she digs out a paper bag from somewhere and hands it to Hecate to use.  
Hecate wants nothing more than to refuse and go back to pretending that everything’s alright. But she can’t, her breakfast flies out before she can even form a coherent thought. She feels sick with shame but heaving as she might it won’t come out. It sits comfortably in her bones and the pit of her stomach and she’s no choice but to just live with it.  
Julie pries the paper bag out of her shaking hands and replaces it with a tissue before she has a chance to protest. Hecate wipes her mouth absently. She doesn’t notice when Julie exits the car, discards the bag and walks away. She doesn’t notice anything other than how the tremors in her body are getting more violent. Her teeth begin to clatter and her chest closes. She doesn’t remember getting out of the car but when Julie returns with a bottle of water she’s sitting on the cold asphalt of the parking lot, leaning against the side of the car and drawing shaky breaths.  
  
"Air...I-air." She tries to explain when Julie looks alarmed.

"This has happened to you before?"

Hecate nods and gratefully accepts the offered water. She and panic attacks have first made acquaintance even before she reached her teens. Handling them is simply a life skill.

“You of all people...I would’ve never guessed.” Muses Julie oblivious to the way Hecate flinches as if she was stung by a nettle.  
She chugs down the water and hauls herself up.

“I’m not getting into this thing again.”

“I can’t just leave the car here!”

“Then drive, I’ll walk.”

Julie arches an eyebrow in a mocking way, much as one would regard an unreasonable child. “Yeah, I’ll just let you go by yourself and get lost.”

“I’m not incompetent!” bristles Hecate.

“I didn’t say you were incompetent, merely unfamiliar with your surroundings.”

Hecate knows Julie is right so she simply repeats her wish not to ever go near a car ever again.

“Well, this time you really have no choice.”

“But-but I can’t-“

“Lots of people get sick in cars, it’s normal, you barf and then you pick your arse up and go on. And there’s a pill for that, you may want to get it. Now will you _please _get in? We are supposed to go check out a flat in an hour.”

Hecate gives in because what else is she supposed to do? “Fine. But could you be a bit more careful with the car?”

“I’m a good driver, I’ll have you know.”

“If you mean as good as your daughter then I shall begin to work on my will.”

  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know the cat needs to be in the carrier even in a car but I also know a certain cat that as much as hears the word 'carrier' and goes all Usain Bolt.  
I love your comments and again feel free to point out overlooked errors or undeleted notes


	3. Hecate and the mystery of revolving doors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Long time no see! This has taken WAY longer than I anticipated but this chapter just didn't want to work with me at all. Huge thanks to LuciaGuilt and my friend Michelle who worked tirelessly to get me out of my slump. And huge huge thanks for your lovely comments, I appreciate all of you so much.  
Well, here goes nothing...

“So what do you think?” asks the man Julie said was the landlord. Hecate thinks it is a stupid question. For almost half an hour they have been in a flat just below the one where Julie lives with Mildred. Apart from a simple bathroom and a tiny kitchenette it’s empty. So what can she be possibly thinking about anything?

The flat is available immediately, the building is clean and well-kept and Julie assured her that even though the neighbourhood is unpopular it’s relatively safe.

She looks around the flat. The landlord has been talking about it the whole time and she wonders what even is there to say about empty space. He tried talking to Hecate and she tried to follow at first but soon grew disinterested. The landlord then started addressing Julie and Hecate is free to roam on her own. Not that there is much room to roam, anyway. But it’s enough, she thinks. The flat is roughly as big as her quarters at Cackle’s and she’d often thought those were obscenely big. But back then she only needed a bed and a bathroom. Now, this flat is all there is. There’s no potions lab down the hall, no stairwell to the kitchens, no library a couple floors up. Suddenly it seems almost claustrophobic, her existence within strict boundaries. Will she ever get used to living like that?

She looks out of a window, studying her surroundings. All of the windows lead to the street, apparently that is another reason why no one wants this flat. Hecate doesn’t care. She’s looking at people passing on the drenched sidewalk with colourful umbrellas, at cars rushing by with a splash and she finds it somewhat entertaining. Raindrops keep battering the window and suddenly there is a tug in her lower belly. A rather familiar sensation, though it shouldn’t...but of course, always at the worst of times.

“I’ll take it.”

No need to prolong this.

“Should we sort the papers then?” The landlord is a jolly old man, all loud talk and jokes. She guesses he’s probably nice but it makes her feel uneasy. She’s not used to people being like that, especially not towards her. He smiles and it feels so alien it takes her a good while to come up with some sort of grimace in return.  


“When can I move in?” Hecate wants to spend as little time at the Hubbles’ as possible, it’s enough of a nuisance Julie is stuck as her mentor.

"Tomorrow or even today if you feel like! The deposit needs to be paid within two weeks, the bank account is on the contract. Now would you mind giving me a few autographs here?"

She places laborious signatures of her new name where he tells her to. She gets her keys. So no nights on the Hubbles’ couch, she has a flat now. A flat of her own.  


On the way up the stairs to Julie’s place Hecate can already feel the wetness pooling into her underwear and is ready to bolt to the bathroom when she realizes.  _ Oh no. _ Of course they haven’t covered  _ this _ in her ordinary classes. What now? She can’t possibly ask Julie Hubble about something like this. 

But does she have a choice?

Julie strides into the livingroom ready for the task of settling her protégé in in her own flat.

“Right, should we throw your stuff downstairs?”

“Well...before that, I-I need to...ask something.”

“Ask away.”

Hecate approaches her carefully, tugging at the sleeves of her sweatshirt, eyes firmly on the carpet.  


“What do you do when...when you have...the-the monthly visitor?”

Julie frowns, confused. “What?”

“Um, you know...the monthly v-visitor?” Hecate blushes and stutters and Julie can’t for the life of her figure this riddle out.

“The  _ what _ ?”

“The-the  _ thing _ you get every month.”

“Oh, you mean your period?”

Hecate burns such a bright shade of red Julie can’t help but laugh.

“Oh come on, that’s a normal thing. We’ll sort this out, do sit down.” She tugs the blushing woman towards the couch but Hecate hesitates. “I’d...rather not.”

“Oh. Well, what have you been doing until now? How do witches deal with it?”

“With towels.”

“Really?” Julie sighs, thinking about what sort of medieval world she has sent her daughter to. Hecate nods.

“And you don’t have your...towels?”

“Normally I’d conjure them.” She explains and twirls her fingers as if casting. It’s still strange to do that and not feel the magic sparkling along her skin. It feels wrong. Empty.  
Julie had thought that after having this kind of conversation with Mildred she wouldn’t ever have to do it again...well, look how that turned out.  
“Oh...so there you go, the non-magical way…”   


* * *

After a very awkward conversation Hecate is forced to enter Julie’s car again. It isn’t without its fair share of protesting but in the end Hecate has to agree that they couldn’t possibly drag multiple pieces of furniture by themselves all the way from...eyekeea? Julie has been throwing that word around like it was self-explanatory but Hecate was lost on its meaning. However she is able to piece out that furniture will be purchased. “Getting homey” Julie called it. Hecate can only guess what exactly that includes. She wonders how the Ordinaries do it anyway. Do they look through pictures and pick something? Does someone choose for them after filling out a questionnaire? Those musings distract her from the ride and before she knows it the car is parked. Hecate doesn’t even have time to be sick. Yet, when she tries to get out of the car she stumbles, only to see a big box-like building with huge, eye-stabbingly bright letters reading ‘IKEA’. So that’s what it is.   
Crossing the parking lot is a horror. Cars keep moving out of their places and randomly appearing behind Hecate and _honking_. Julie ends up having to tug her by her sleeve. Just when Hecate thinks she is safe another challenge presents itself.  


“What is...that?”

Julie, almost halfway in the doorway turns to face a wide-eyed Hecate.

“This? Oh, um...well, doors.”

Hecate squints suspiciously. “I know doors and this looks nothing like it.” 

“It’s revolving doors. A type of doors that, well...revolves.”

Hecate takes a small step back. “A-and why does it do that?”

Julie thinks on that. She thinks hard but can’t seem to find an answer. To be honest she has never in her life questioned the purpose of revolving doors. Maybe she should have. Finally she sighs. “Look, I don’t really know why but that’s not the  _ point _ . The point is this is the only way in so...

Hecate backs off even more. “No. No way. You have already made me ride in a car,  _ twice _ . I’m not going into that thing.”  


“Come on.” Julie approaches her carefully. When Hecate won’t meet her eyes, she continues. “You’ve faced worse things, I’m sure. Dangerous spells and potions...I’ve heard a great deal of what you’d done, from Millie mostly. Surely you can face doors.”

A few deep breaths in Hecate is startled by a strange sensation. Julie has taken her hand. Julie is holding her hand. They’re touching, another person is touching her. It’s a bigger shock than the doors and effectively takes her mind off the issue. Suddenly she couldn’t care less about her surroundings because  _ another person is touching her. _ She feels her hand, sweaty and limp in Julie’s. It’s a strange feeling and she doesn’t know what to do but nevertheless finds it grounding when she walks into the door. She feels trapped and frightened when the entrance disappears but thankfully a way out appears almost immediately and she bolts into the hall beyond tugging Julie behind before she realizes their hands are still joined and pulls away, suddenly shy. For a couple minutes she follows Julie sheepishly, too puzzled and embarrassed to really pay attention to anything. When she finally looks up she’s even more confused. She’s surrounded by tiny (and some not so tiny) rooms and ‘loose’ pieces of furniture, all together creating sort of a maze.

“So...what’s with these rooms? I’m guessing I should pick one?”

Julie turns to her, smiling. Hecate relaxes. So hand holding is obviously not a big deal. Of course it’s not; she’s done it countless times with Pippa. But they were children...and  _ friends _ . She held hands with Pippa as an adult too, once. But not with anyone else, never with anyone else. And Julie is not her friend.

“They’re showrooms, just for inspiration. You can pick whatever you like, no matter where it is.” Julie has never thought a day would come when she’d have to explain IKEA. But well, Julie hasn’t thought she’d ever have to do many things she’s done today. Seeing Hecate’s confusion, surprise, wonder, fear and occasional fascination at things that leave Julie totally unfazed is certainly an interesting experience. It definitely makes her think more about the things she considers normal. What  _ is _ the point of those bloody revolving doors, really?

Hecate looks around again, properly, and frowns. There are too many people for her liking. And so much...stuff. Not just furniture but all kinds of accessories too. It’s like a flea market, she realizes. Hecate has never liked flea markets.

“They don’t expect me to carry a couch on my shoulder, do they?”

Julie has to laugh. “Of course not.” She takes a piece of paper and five pencils from a nearby stand. “

“You’ll write down the number of the thing you like and once you’re done choosing, we’ll pick it up from the storage. We’ll take it home and then you can play with it in your flat.”

Hecate raises an eyebrow but nods.

They make their way through the sections and Hecate writes some things down. Walking through some bedrooms, she keeps looking around until she comes to a stop. One of the rooms reminds her of her old bedroom at Cackle’s. Of course, the woodwork isn’t as mesmerizing and the lamps just can’t compete with the lanterns used at the castle. Still, it is the closest to home she’s ever gonna get in this world. She turns to tell Julie to write it down, surprised when she isn’t anywhere in sight. Hecate carefully exits the room, as if it could disappear when she leaves. Still no Julie. Looking all around her, Hecate can hear her blood rushing. Surely Julie wouldn’t just leave her there. Or would she? What now? Where is the exit? How does she get back to her flat?

Taking deep breaths Hecate tries to force her mind into action so she can start forging some sort of a plan. Okay, first she needs to get out of this labyrinth. But before she can begin to guess which way to go, her train of thoughts is interrupted by a body colliding with hers, hard. It throws her forward and she stumbles. Clutching her violated shoulder she looks around for the culprit. There are people all around her. Walking around her, bumping into her, talking to each other or maybe to her, she isn’t sure. Hecate turns around on the spot, rising to her tiptoes to see over the many heads, looking for something,  _ anything _ that will show her the way out of this place.

Suddenly she’s pulled to the side, a hand grasping her arm. She’s ready to put anyone who has dared to touch her that way into their right place only to face an innocently looking Julie.

“Here you are! I almost thought I’ve lost you. Better stick close, it’s a bit confusing here.”

Hecate can only stare, completely speechless.

Their storage trip is basically Julie loading things onto a trolley with mopey Hecate dragging behind. She points to various candles, plants and wall decorations Hecate is indifferent to. When they reach the end, a brief glance to their packed trolley reveals Julie has taken her silence for an agreement and went on a rampage.

They line up in a queue at one cash desk and then it hits her.

“How am I going to pay for all this?”

“Oh! I’ve almost forgot.” Julie digs in her bag for her purse and when she finds it, she triumphantly whips out a thin card. “This is your debit card, I believe you’ve studied them in those classes you’ve been having?”

Hecate nods, though she only remembers faintly. She needs to consult her notes. She gingerly takes the card from Julie.

“What do I do?”

“You stick it into the terminal at the cash desk and then you’ll put your PIN code in.”

“I don’t know any code.”

Julie dips into her purse again and produces a small folded piece of paper. Hecate takes it and peers at the four numbers written there. During their wait she repeats to herself  _ card into the terminal, then code, card into the terminal, then code, card into the terminal, then-  _ It’s their turn and it’s  _ too soon _ . Hecate doesn’t really know what a terminal looks like and where exactly it is and which side of the card does she tap to it or does it even matter? She’s not ready. The lady ringing up their (well, Julie’s) seemingly endless shopping spree is somehow finishing up already and Hecate pushes the card into Julie’s face.

“Could you...please?” She’s had enough novelty for one day, for one year even. But she knows she won’t catch a break anytime soon, so at least this once. She will learn to use that card, she  _ will _ ...but not today.,    
On the way out Hecate is dreading those...doors, again and is more than surprised when Julie manoeuvres them and their haul through a normal sliding door. When Julie meets her questioning look her expression turns smug and Hecate realizes she’s known about the door all along.  _ Alright then _ , she thinks, _ if that’s how you want to play… _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so moving abroad is more difficult than I thought but now that I'm more or less settled I should be updating more often, or so I hope. Should you be interested in following my journey I do post about my moving on instagram, or I'm trying to. The username is @wondervita, same as here.   
Also I have rewritten this chapter about ten times and I'm not even sure if I uploaded the right file in the end :D.  
I wasn't quite sure about the triggers on this one so if you feel there is something that should be tagged but isn't, let me know.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)  
I obviously took some liberties about Hecate's past, it just seemed to fit the fic...  
Feel free to point out any overlooked errors or notes I haven't deleted (yes, that has happened before)
> 
> Comments are the best!


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